The Star
by Clarra-Night
Summary: A sliver of a one-shot. Something like a drabble. You might like this if you like an older Thor looking after a much younger Loki, who pays attention to the stars.


**Author's Notes: Again, thanks hugely to those people who had been Favouriting, Following and/or reading my other stories.**

 **An inability to write long ones has been growing in me as of late. This drabble-like one-shot has a distinctly larger age gap between Thor and Loki that depicts Thor like a teenage big brother while Loki still a young thing that Frigga tells Thor to look after when he's with Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three. Sometimes I'm in love with the vision of an adult Thor crouching beside and talking to a smiling toddler Loki. Seriously, think about it.**

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"Lady Iokith looked particularly fair at the banquet table tonight, did she not?" Fandral remarked. He ran a hand through his gold hair to sweep it to one side. "It isn't her norm to wear such vibrant silk."

Even in the palace precincts, the nighttime air was warmed with the aromas of hot meats, smoke, and baking bread. And the air was restless, weaving between the wandering feet of the five tall figures that trekked across the dewy lawn. It swam around the short legs of the sixth silhouette that hurried to keep up. Slices of rich light escaped the mass of the gold palace behind them, through high windows that cast them out like fire arrows to set the city alight.

Sif raised a sharp eyebrow, while Volstagg said, "How could you notice such things? There was the platter of roasted honeyed boar cheek right on our table. The crackling still sizzled." He heaved a mountainous, nostalgic sigh.

Sif rolled her eyes. "The things you pay attention to… You two realise the actual purpose of that banquet was to announce the renewal of the ágæti garden sectors that were destroyed in the Old Wars."

Thor clapped her on the shoulder. "Our two friends live in the present."

"Exactly, Sif." Fandral peered over his shoulder as if he could see Iokith in the palace. "I can notice what I want."

" _Who,_ not _what_ , Fandral."

"Ah. Right." He quickly sidestepped Sif's consequential jab to his ribs.

"I personally think the mulled mead has addled your taste, Fandral." Thor grinned. "Do you not normally look to Lady Vilknire on occasions like these?"

"Perhaps he has finally realised she never looks at him in return." Sif commented, and Hogun snorted.

"The mulled mead…" Volstagg almost lamented. Thor laughed.

Thor and Fandral's banter on the prettiest girls at the feast perforated the sounds of the ongoing celebration behind them. Every so often, Thor stopped to let his brother dash forward to close the gap between them. He watched the hood of Loki's oversized cloak droop over his pale forehead – it had been Thor's cloak when he was that young, but evidently he had not been as small. The dark sleeves seemed so long they hid all but the tips of his brother's thin fingers, while the moonlight turned the rest of him almost ghostly. Thor reached down to gently catch the tiny hand in his comparatively large one.

"Well, I'm sure Loki agrees with me." Thor grinned. "Brother, who was the fairest at tonight's feast?" Sif snorted, while the other boys scoffed with laughter.

"Stars" Loki whispered.

Thor looked down at him. Loki's hood was now tossed back, letting the breeze brush his black hair. He was momentarily paying no heed to the surrounding repartee. The little face was lifted skyward, gazing at crowd upon crowd of the distant constellations. They looked as if a great being had smashed countless moons into diamond dust across the landscape of the Void. Thor saw several stars reflected in each huge, glass-green eye.

He heard his friends continue their jesting behind him as he crouched next to Loki. Loki raised the palm that was not in his older brother's hand, as if trying to catch his favourite ones.

"You think the stars are the prettiest?"

The widened eyes were obscured for a split second by a blink, but stayed transfixed on the heavens. "Best" Loki nodded solemnly.

"I'll get you one, one day" Thor grinned. He pointed to a distinct, golden glimmer that was encircled by ribbons of smaller specks.

"That one is my favourite. Heimdall told me it's christened 'Hilmir', which means 'king'"

He watched his brother absorb this fragment of information, nodding again slightly, still staring up in wonder.

Thor smiled. "Have you a favourite too?" Another blink. Loki looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded decisively.

Thor tilted his head back to quickly guess which star earned his brother's preference. There were a few spiralling blue ones. A fiery pearl-pink one beside their largest moon. But most were simple freckles of silver-white. Most just looked to him the same as the one beside it. Thor predicted it was the softer-looking green one that was hung above Frigga's private garden.

"Point it out for me" He said.

He felt a soft fingertip touch his cheek.

"Best" Loki answered contentedly.

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 **By the way, ágæti means 'celebration' in Old Norse. According to an online dictionary.**

 **I hope you liked this :)**


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